


Fright Night

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel, Benny is Not Oblivious, Best Friends, Cas is Fifteen Years Old, Dean is Seventeen Years Old, Dean is a Good Friend, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Human Dean, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Some angst, light cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as he was about to turn around and press the contraption to get to gateway sugar drugs, his little eye spotted something out of the ordinary—but certainly not unwelcome. </p><p>Coming down the stairs of the house across the street was a boy decked in nothing but silver spandex and heavenly white, cloud-like wings aligned with his tanned, muscular arms from shoulder to finger. Even from his limited view underneath a porchlight (and a mask, no less), Dean could see he was caked in glitter. Usually Dean hated glitter, but it’s never been an invitation until now. </p><p>It wasn’t until he saw a bouncing redhead beside him that he glued the pieces together.</p><p>But it couldn’t have been. Cas, his Cas, was an angel in a literal form.</p><p>Or the one where Cas is more than his costume and Dean discovers the truth about his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fright Night

“Dude, really?”

“What?”

Dean gesticulated to the monstrosity with his scythe. “Sailors aren’t scary,” he said matter-of-factly. Benny, his best friend since as long as he’s avoided wedgies, rolled his eyes. He straightened the cobalt tie hanging limply around his neck that in no way reminded him of Cas’s eyes, despite what his brother may tell you. “What happened to that vamp costume we were looking at?”

“It’s too hot for that,” he replied. “I don’t even know how you’re wearing that. I’m gettin’ heat stroke just lookin’ atcha.”

 _That_ referring to his full-on reaper costume, complete with a black cloak and a custom-made skeleton mask, thank you very much. Dean wasn’t much of a sculptor or even a cosplayer, but when it came to Halloween, he was all hands on deck. Something about the holiday awakened his untapped artistic ability. “Because I’m a true warrior of Halloween,” he said, sounding more like Darth Vader than the Grim Reaper through his cover.

“Or you’re just an idiot,” Benny deadpanned. “Halloween doesn’t have’ta be about scarin’ people, brother.”

“Seriously? _Trick or treat?_ Benny, the whole freaking holiday is dedicated to scaring people!” he boasted. Dean didn’t love a lot of things, but he’d be damned if Halloween wasn’t one of them. His mom used to make his and Sam’s costumes every year. He’s just carrying out the family tradition, despite what the candygivers tell him. He’ll reconsider the age restrictions when he’s a _real_ skeleton. “Even Gabe knows that.”

“What about Gabe?”

Speak of the devil—literally. The two seniors whipped their heads to Dean’s younger brother, who came strutting down the hall in his King of Hades costume. “See, Sam gets it!” Dean exclaimed before tilting his head to the side with a painful expression. “Even if he looks like an MCR reject.”

“ _One song,_ Dean,” Sam said, shooting him bitch face #247. “Are we gonna stand here playing Fashion Police or are we gonna rob some candy?” Dean smiled wide (even though Sam couldn’t see it) and clamped his brother on the back, leading them out the door, Benny shadowing close behind them.

***

When Dean said he liked scaring people, he meant it. In the last hour since he’s been under the moon’s watchful eye (a _full moon_ on Halloween, what a time to be alive!), he’s managed to scare the living daylights out of a dozen unsuspecting kids. There’s something about the naivety of children that not only makes them an easy target, but makes it incredibly satisfying.

Call him mental, but leave hospitals out of the equation until after midnight. Unless he’s scaring people there… the irony, the Grim Reaper scaring people to death in a den of reclamation.

Dean made his way up the steps of the Mills’ residence when he felt a prying hand wedge between him and his brother’s shoulder, effectively snatching the younger sibling like a fish in her dirty talons. He knew the hand like the back of his own because no one would try to ruin Halloween like “Ruby, what the fuck?”

“Sorry, Dean-o,” she said, slinging an arm around Sam. She was dressed as a demon; it was suiting. “Sammy and I have a little unfinished business to attend to.” That was definitely an ass-grab he just saw. Worst of all, Sam giggled—actually _giggled_ like a schoolgirl on the receiving end of a dozen roses from her latest crush.

“Fine, just… have him home by ten,” Dean said, violently blinking away the thought of brother sex. “And wear a condom! If he comes home pregnant, I swear to God—”

“Isn’t that kinda hard when you’re dressed like that?” Ruby preened.

Dean sent them away with his scythe. “Get out of here. You’re not getting any of my candy, Sammy!”

“I’ll share with Ruby!” Sam shouted back. Dean shook his head with heavy disdain. _Ruby’ll share something with him, alright—like chlamydia._ Just as he was about to turn around and press the contraption to get to gateway sugar drugs, his little eye spotted something out of the ordinary—but certainly not unwelcome.

Coming down the stairs of the house across the street was a boy decked in nothing but silver spandex and heavenly white, cloud-like wings aligned with his tanned, muscular arms from shoulder to finger. Even from his limited view underneath a porchlight (and a mask, no less), Dean could see he was caked in glitter. Usually Dean hated glitter, but it’s never been an invitation until now.

It wasn’t until he saw a bouncing redhead beside him that he glued the pieces together.

But it couldn’t have been. Cas, _his_ Cas, was an angel in a literal form.

“Uh, Dean,” Benny’s distant Cajun voice called, harking his attention. Mr. and Mrs. Mills stood in the doorway.

“You okay, Dean? I hate to be a walking cliché on Halloween, but you look like you saw a ghost,” Jody stated. Dean wanted to laugh—because that made sense with his guise and all—but hot damn.

“I wish,” he muttered, but proceeded to thank the couple for their hospitality. “Let’s go,” he said to no one in particular, even though it was just him and Benny flying solo—pilot and wingman.

“Uh, brother, we already got those houses.”

Dean scoffed, “I knew that, you think I don’t know what houses we’ve hit?”

“I think you don’t know _who_ to hit,” Benny mumbled into the contents inside his grocery bag.

“What?”

“What? Nothin’,” he said loud and clear, “lead the way, Maverick.”

***

It was around eleven when Dean decided to call it quits—only because the neighborhood lights started flickering like a bad omen, threatening to swipe the fun out from underneath every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Benny had parted ways two hours earlier, said he had to tuck in Elizabeth, his six-year-old niece. Sam was back at the house—or for his sake, he better pray that he is—probably riffling through his candy without Dean. It was all so typical, losing your trusted allies to the likes of women.

Dean, to his chagrin, decided to take a shortcut through a back alley. Usually he’d round the block, but he was fifteen minutes past curfew. Sam was one thing, since he was actually an obedient child. Dean, well, let’s just say he’s had groundings that would make the strongest coffee beans weep.

He passed by a particularly rank dumpster when he saw something up ahead—something that looked a lot like Lou Ferrigno and John Wayne teaming up on a huge caved-in marshmallow.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was fighting against the wind, coming full-force at the two assholes, scythe raised ominously over his head. Dean thought he was going to have to put up some fight. The scythe wasn’t real, unfortunately, but that’s all it took for the costumed duo to run in the opposite direction screaming Bloody Mary. He thought scaring ten year olds was fun; try two grown ass men on for size.

But Dean couldn’t gloat now, not when Cas’s body was drooping like an overwatered flower against the wall. Dean rushed to his side, slapping him several times with his skeletal hands. It’s funny how your heart races faster than the person who took the beating. “Hey, Cas! Cas? _Cas…_ ” His voice cracked along with his faith in humanity. “Don’t you dare die on me, you son of a bitch!”

Dean’s top layer skull rested against Cas’s forehead, wondering, waiting, _praying,_ of all things. Dean wasn’t much of a praying guy, always thought it meant weakness. But truth be told, nothing made him weaker than watching his best friend’s vital signs dwindle away to nothing.

By the grace of God, he felt a hard shift beneath him. “Who are you?!”

“Cas!” he exclaimed, which only further startled the boy. He placed his hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Relax, it’s just me.” Cas did that squinty thing with his eyes that Dean’s never been more thankful for.

“Dean?”

Dean peeled off his mask, tossing a months’ worth of work into a nearby puddle. “Happy Halloween,” he said, sucking in a sharp breath and letting it pass through his mouth just as easy. “Are you okay? What did they break? I swear on the life of my unborn child, if they broke something I’ll _rip their lungs out.”_

“It’s nothing, just, ah—” Cas faltered. He didn’t look too beaten up. Dean must have gotten there in the nick of time. But Cas was lifting himself up off the wall, spine popping like the seal on an unused Tupperware, baring his makeshift wings. For someone who wasn’t into the whole cutesy scene on Halloween, Dean had to say, those things looked like something out of a Victoria’s Secrets catalogue. “Just my wings,” he panted, short on breath. Dean laughed despite himself.

“I can fix those for you if you—” Dean combed through a meticulously-placed feather when Cas let out a strangled gasp. Huh, that was weird… “Cas…?”

Cas chuckled as low and gravelly as the ground beneath them. “They’re real.”

“They’re?” Dean swallowed his disbelief. This was Cas. He wouldn’t lie, especially at a time like this. “Wow…” he breathed just as Cas began to face-plant toward the ground. “Whoa! Hey there, buddy. You still with me?” Cas nodded weakly underneath Dean’s strong arms. Dean saw the back of his dark scalp, messy with blood.

“Yeah, just… let me do one thing before I pass out.”

Dean didn’t know when Cas surged forward and planted one on him, but suddenly he had an armful of naked angel, which increasingly turned into deadweight. He held on to the moment as long as he could—Cas’s newly bruised, always chapped pink lips on his cold ones, honey-flavored tongue itching at the seam of his lower, begging entrance like a dog left out in the pouring rain as his battered wings unfolded to shelter them both—but he also couldn’t afford to be selfish. Cas would die if Dean didn’t stop him.

Dean ended up in the hospital that night after all; a hooded figure crouched over a nude angel. Only, instead his life, Dean took something far more valuable of Cas’s.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween never comes too early! A comment equals a treat!


End file.
